


No Good Deed

by Plaant



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Complete, Dialogue Heavy, Emotional Constipation, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored), POV Alternating, Post-Dishonored (Video Game), Post-Low Chaos Ending, Pre-Dishonored 2 (Video Game), Redemption, Royal Spymaster Daud (Dishonored), canon-typical edgy one liners, canon-typical monologuing, enemies to slightly less enemies, literally everybody needs to chill out, literally everything i write is dialogue heavy lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plaant/pseuds/Plaant
Summary: The Lord Regent's reign is over, and Emily Kaldwin is back on the throne with Corvo as her protector.There's something Daud can't shake.AKA, the series of conversations that lead to Daud becoming Emily's Royal Spymaster.
Relationships: Corvo Attano & Daud, Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Not exactly a "new" idea in the fandom, but it's an idea I've had for ages and decided to finally put to paper. Hope you enjoy.

Daud couldn't sleep.

He lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling of his hideout in the Flooded District. The brick and wood of the building were all bowing and breaking from rot, and it was only a matter of time before the roof caved in completely.

Daud rolled onto his side, the rusted iron bedframe creaking under the shift in weight. He forced his eyes shut, but his ears immediately took over. Even in the dead of night, even abandoned as it was, this mildewed corner of Dunwall could still be so loud. The buildings groaned as their supports threaten to snap; water sloshed as stray dogs waded through the muck looking for food; stones crumbled. Over the ambient sound of the city's own breathing were the quieter and more subtle shifting of the hideout itself. Daud's well-trained ears could just barely pick up the footsteps of his Whalers — what was left of the group, anyway. Those that hadn't left after Billie's betrayal had been formally dismissed in the wake of Daud's confrontation with Corvo.

"_I've had enough killing."_

And yet, a handful had stayed — seven, was it? Or down to five now?

Why had they stayed?

Daud tossed onto his other side. If he focused, he could recognize his Whalers from footsteps alone: Someone was on the floor below him now, shuffling through a bookshelf. Though their footsteps were damn near silent, there was a slight unevenness to the creaking in the floorboards around them — a slightly heavy gait on the left side, likely from an injury earlier in life. Thomas; of course Thomas had stayed. Daud listened closely to him for a few moments, the sound of flipping pages an almost welcome distraction, until the sound of displacement and re-settling of floorboards indicated Thomas' exit. There was a tug on the edge of Daud's perception whenever a Whaler used his magic, like a small tap on the shoulder. Daud rarely noticed the sensation anymore, in the same way he was no longer bothered by the smell of mildew and mold; it was simply a part of his life. Or it had been.

He turned to his other side again. His job was done. The young empress was back on the throne, with Corvo as both her adviser and guard. Dunwall would, with any luck, be tipping back to some sense of normalcy in the coming months. Though if Dunwall lacked anything, it was luck.

The bonecharms on his desk hummed. He was up to twelve now, the most recent two taken from Delilah. It had been just over two months since he'd faced the witch, but it seemed like years had passed. And just a month since dueling Corvo on the rooftops. A month since he'd had his life spared. A month since he'd vow to leave all of this — all of Dunwall — behind. Soon enough the Guard would come for him, be it a targeted insurgence or simply part of reclaiming the Flooded District. So within the next several weeks, he'd have to leave. It would be easy to go home, to Karnaca; he had the money and the means.

Daud rolled over again, onto his back. He was no stranger to sleepless nights, but they always meant something bad.

Something didn't fit. Somewhere in all of this, in the puzzles of politics and gangs and black magic that made up Dunwall, there was a hole.

He frowned up at the ceiling, trying to piece it all together.

Jessamine Kaldwin, the late empress. Dead at his hand. Repaid, to some extent.

Emily, her young daughter. Rescued. For now.

Corvo Attano. Royal Protector. A bodyguard, now helping to steady an empire. A merciful assassin. Marked, like him. Serkonan, like him. 

Delilah. A witch. Thwarted, just barely.

The Hatters. The Dead Eels. The Bottle Street Gang. The Brigmore Witches — what was left of them. The Whalers — what was left of them.

Civilians. Some good, some bad.

The Outsider. All-seeing, mysterious, and universally unhelpful. At best, a push for those near the edge; at worst, a sadistic bastard.

The city had been held together with a piece of twine. Daud had cut that piece of twine himself, watched chaos take hold, and come out on the other side, more or less unscathed. But what now? What of the young empress? What of the gangs and aristocrats? What of the Marked? What of the Royal Protector, double-crossed twice and rebuilding the Isles?

Daud sat up in bed when it dawned on him. He shook his head at the absurdity of the idea; it edged on the border between ridiculous and outright stupid. It would never work.

He remembered Corvo's blade: at his throat one moment, gone the next. 

It could work. 

He remembered being left alone on that rooftop, left to think about his choices, about the dead empress. About the new empress.

He had no reason not to try.

Daud shrugged on his jacket and lit a cigarette. Time paused as he teleported down the stairs, through the hall, out to the patio. Thomas, mask still on, was leaning against the railing, watching over the flooded streets below. They were draining; the water was lower and lower every day.

"Thomas," Daud said, taking a drag.

Thomas pulled away from the railing and turned to face him. "Sir?"

Daud tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. "I need your help planning an errand. I'm paying a visit to Dunwall Tower."


	2. 1

Infiltrating Dunwall Tower a second time was embarrassingly easy, even with the presence of guards. They paced around and muttered to each other twenty feet below as Daud crossed the yard in a short few jumps, obscured by the darkness of a mercifully cloudy night. He was thankful for the absence of Tallboys, and wondered briefly if the young empress herself had discontinued their use, along with the Walls of Light and Arc Pylons; surely anyone else would view them as a necessary security measure. Daud himself viewed them as an annoyance.

Locating Corvo within the palace would have been much harder had it not been for his small collection of bonecharms, which lit up like beacons in Daud's dark vision. He tracked them down to a bedroom on the third floor, crammed in a box, shoved under the oversized bed. Daud had half a mind to steal back the two Corvo had pilfered from him, but decided against it for propriety's sake. He was here to do something absurd, not commit petty theft.

Daud climbed onto the ledge outside the room in question, crouching low. He expanded his senses through the walls, noting the young Empress' sleeping form in the adjacent room, and then Corvo.

The Lord Protector was sitting at a desk, deeply focused on reading something. Daud peeked his head up, just enough to peer in through the window; Corvo's back was turned, attention completely absorbed.

Daud went to test the lock on the window, but found the window already open. He paused, hand hovering in the window frame, wondering if everything being this damned easy was a bad sign. Not that Daud could blame him for keeping the window open; Dunwall air was thick and still this time of year.

He hesitated briefly. He could leave now, if he wanted to. He hadn't been seen yet. No one would ever know he had been here at all.

No one would ever know.

Daud crawled through the window, careful and practiced. He never trusted tranversals to put him in the right place on the other side of windows, and he had no room for error.

He didn't need magic for time to stand still in this room. Even at night, it was unnaturally well-lit by overhead lights and a rather redundant desklamp. The spotless tile floor and simple white walls only served to amplify the brightness, to the point that Daud found himself squinting in the moments before his eyes fully adjusted. 

It was all so clean. The floors, of course, but everything _—_ the bed's sheets were made and crisp, the deep red rug was perfectly centered and flattened, even the books and shelves were flawlessly aligned and dusted into submission. The only suggestions of life were the near-inaudible hum of bonecharms, and the Lord Protector himself, sword leaning against his desk. Corvo was about fifteen feet from Daud, three or four full strides, back turned.

Daud's eye twitched. The door was closed. It was nearly one in the morning. They weren't likely to be disturbed. For now.

He still had time to turn back.

Silently, not moving from his spot by the window, Daud summoned Corvo's sword into his gloved hand. 

The weight was familiar, though the circumstances were not. Last time Daud had held this sword, it was while looking into Corvo's half-dead eyes, sunken and hazy from sleep deprivation and poison.

This time, however...

"I see you still keep your sword close at hand," Daud said, tossing the blade, fascinated by its gyroscopic sheathing mechanism. "Are you expecting someone?"

Corvo whipped around, ready to retaliate, but Daud was faster. He cleared the space between them in an instant, catching Corvo still half-turned in his chair.

Daud gripped Corvo's left wrist, twisting and pinning it to the desk, watching the glow fade from the Mark; it wouldn't do to have him use magic as a way out. He turned Corvo to fully face him before forcing him back against the desk, pressing the dull edge of his knife to Corvo's windpipe.

"I suggest you think _very_ carefully about your next move," Daud said, voice quiet but clear.

Corvo glared back at him, more furious than scared. His eyes weren't half-dead anymore; they were sharp, cutting into Daud in place of a sword. Weeks back in aristocracy had clearly built his strength back up.

"Daud," Corvo grit out, like it was the worst swear he could think of.

It caught Daud off-guard momentarily, as it occurred to him that he'd never heard the man speak before. Corvo's voice was somehow deeper than he'd expected, all gravel and exhaustion.

"I'm not here to fight you, Corvo. We both know who would win," Daud said, blade still at Corvo's throat. "I'm here to talk. My only request is that you hear me out without getting the guards involved."

Corvo's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion, visually dissecting Daud. Corvo wasn't struggling; he remained still, and tensed like a spring. 

"Emily," Corvo said shortly, but the meaning was clear enough, as panic flashed briefly in his eyes. 

"The Empress is safe in her room next door," Daud assured him. "If you agree to listen to me, I'll let you check on her."

The glare faded to something blanker, something confused, and again, Daud remembered just how ridiculous this idea was. If he made the wrong call here _—_ if Corvo decided to pick a fight _—_ he would almost certainly lose. Was this all worth the risk?

Corvo nodded, slowly, hesitantly. 

Daud, painfully aware of his own naivety, loosened his grip on Corvo's left hand.

The Mark glowed and Corvo's eyes cloud slightly as he peered into the adjacent room. He exhaled, relieved, and the Mark went dim.

"If I wanted the Empress dead, she would be dead, and I would be gone, without you ever knowing," Daud added. 

Corvo shifted, scowling. Daud pressed the dull metal harder against his throat, until he heard Corvo choke.

"I'm here to talk," Daud repeated. "About the girl. About the Empire. About all of it."

"Then talk," Corvo spat.

Daud cautiously withdrew his knife from Corvo's throat. He judged Corvo's movements carefully for any hint of offensive action.

And to his surprise, Corvo made no attempt to lunge forward, or transverse, or call for help. He scrutinized Daud's every motion, hands twitching, posture guarded, but he didn't move.

Unbelievable.

Daud backed away until there was a full yard between them. He kept eye contact as he sheathed his knife and tossed Corvo's sword aside. Corvo watched it fall with a kind of frustrated disappointment.

Corvo crossed his arms, defensively. He wasn't the same beaten, disheveled husk the Whalers had pulled out of the river some short weeks prior. Soiled trenchcoat exchanged for clean formal garments and hair washed and pulled up in a small bun, he was likely passing well as a proper aristocrat. But Daud could still see the feral in his narrowed, dark eyes.

"I've done a lot of bad in my life," Daud began, "I've made a living spilling blood and sparking chaos. I never thought someone would show me mercy, let alone the bodyguard of the empress I murdered."

Corvo gave no response. He simply watched, regarding Daud skeptically.

"I don't know what reason you had to spare me, or any of your other targets. But it gave me time to think over my choices, and my future."

Corvo's eyebrows raised, still wordless. In some ways, Daud appreciated the silent scrutiny; it was better than being interrupted.

"When we fought, I told you that killing your Empress broke something in me, but I've come to realize that isn't true. It didn't break something in me. It woke me up. It snapped me out of a stupor I've been stuck in for decades now, of being complicit with corruption and senseless death. It changed me." Daud hoped the words sounded as painful as they felt, like coughing up shards of glass.

It was hard to tell what Corvo made of it. His face remained stoic, all hard angles and doubt. Not that Daud could blame him.

"There's no undoing the things I've done. I have no illusions of redemption or anything as grand as that. But I've had enough killing." Daud gave himself a final pause before putting his offer forward. "I murdered the previous Empress, and it was a mistake. With your permission and assistance, I want to protect this one."

Corvo's brows furrowed in thought while the words processed in his head. When understanding dawned on him, the controlled, disbelieving fury manifested in Corvo's straight-backed posture and balled fists. Daud flexed his hand, ready to make his escape, if it came to that.

"Why would I trust you?" Corvo growled, a not-so-subtle edge to his voice. "What reason do I have to believe anything you've just told me?" 

"Because you don't have any other choice," Daud said bluntly.

"'Don't have a choice'?" Corvo repeated, incredulous.

"What are your other options? Wait for the next person like me? The next assassin? The next crazed terrorist, or power-hungry aristocrat? I guarantee the next person with the means and motive to break into Dunwall Tower won't be here just to talk."

Corvo leaned forward in provocation, seething. "I'm more than capable of protecting the Empress myself."

"Emily would be dead right now if I were anybody else," Daud said. "You couldn't save Jessamine when she was right in front of you."

Corvo teleported forward, but Daud dodged, and used the split second of Corvo's reappearance to grapple him, pinning his left hand. Corvo tried to speak, but Daud had him in a chokehold.

"You're a smart man, Corvo. But you're just one man, and you can't see everything." Daud waited until he was on the verge of falling unconscious to release him.

Corvo keeled halfway to the floor before straightening and swiveling to face Daud directly, teeth bared.

"So you expect me to trust _you_?" he asked, rubbing his throat.

"You've been stabbed in the back too many times to listen to aristocrats. Too many ulterior motives."

"And an _assassin_ is any better?" Corvo bit back.

"Who better to prevent further assassinations? Besides," Daud raised his left hand, showing the glow of the Mark through his glove, "I can't imagine any of your other advisers are particularly adept in dealing with black magic."

Corvo looked from Daud's face to the Mark, and back again. His eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at?"

"In those past weeks _—_ while you were crawling around in the sewers and making aristocrats disappear -- there was another attempt on Emily Kaldwin's life."

"Impossible. I would have known about it," Corvo said.

"In other circumstances, you would have. But this was different." Daud recalled the marble statues, creepy and uncanny, locked in closets or lording over courtyards. "She was one of us. Marked."

Corvo shook his head, either in disbelief or an attempt at mentally righting himself. 

"A witch, named Delilah. She had a way of taking the throne for herself without getting anywhere near the girl, and nobody would have been the wiser. She would have gotten away with it, but I managed to stop her. Barely. You were lucky. _Emily_ was lucky."

"You're lying." Corvo said it like a demand.

"I'm a lot of things, Corvo, but I'm not a liar," Daud said. 

He looked almost insulted by the statement. The beginnings of a retort died in his mouth at the sound of footfalls down the hall. Corvo froze still like a frightened cat, holding his breath. Daud crouched low, prepared to hide or run. But the footsteps faded, once again leaving them alone.

Daud kept his voice quiet. "I don't expect you to make a decision right now. But I want you to consider it."

Corvo side-eyed him, still not releasing his breath.

"A week from now I'm going to be in the area again. Somewhere nearby, on a rooftop," Daud continued, moving to the window. "If you have any other questions, you're welcome to meet me there. If I don't see you by sun-down, I'll leave Dunwall."

Daud crawled out the window, watching Corvo watching him. He didn't know quite what to make of it _—_ was that paranoia in his piercing eyes, or loathing?

"My one request is that you come alone," Daud said. He shut the window and waited just long enough to see Corvo lock it before melting back into the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! you can follow me on tumblr at plaant.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

Corvo, as a general rule, did not visit shrines anymore. Not just because he now had the Abbey breathing down his neck, though that was a part of it — as was his lack of freedom. The main reason he avoided shrines was to keep his new life strictly separate from those few weeks he'd spent slinking through the city's underbelly.

Shrines made him feel equal parts powerful and powerless, stuck somewhere between solely responsible and doomed. He didn't need any of that these days.

So he told himself. But Daud's words worked under his skin and into his skull, and the sharp teeth of paranoia dug in deep. It built on his existing distrust and over-caution until it was a near constant thrum in his head. It crawled on his back wherever he walked, and filled the space behind his eyes whenever he looked at Emily. Suddenly there was no safety — not in his room, not in his sleep, not in Emily.

For the first time since re-establishing Emily's place on the throne, Corvo felt weak. He convinced himself that he was once again following the Heart's beating to track down runes as a means of sharpening his focus into the arcane. He knew better than to seek out shrines for answers; the Outsider was not in the business of giving answers — he reminded himself of this while darting between shadows and hiding in alleys, searching for the flicker of purple lanterns.

Even as the Rat Plague began to subside, shrines were not uncommon in Dunwall. He managed to find one within two hours, hidden away in the basement of a dilapidated apartment building. Corvo locked the door before approaching the shrine, not wanting interruption from any of the tenants.

The basement was windowless and mildewed, lit only by a dim purple glow. The splintered wood planks and draped velvet of the shrine cast strange looming shadows on the cracked stone walls. Corvo could hear the runes now, humming steadily atop a small nest of barbed wires. They had an undeniable pull to them, one that made his pulse thrum in his ears, and hand itch. He hated it.

The Outsider was not known for his usefulness, or straightforwardness, or clarity. He was too passive to give advice and too aloof to be outright cruel, but he had a sharp tongue and sharper eyes. Not quite a neutral party, but the closest thing to an outside opinion that Corvo was going to get.

Reluctantly, he took the runes. His body went fully rigid as the trance took hold of him. Cold seeped under his clothes and into his bones, and the smell of salt stung his nose.

The Outsider materialized in a puff of black mist, hovering slightly above the shrine. He looked stoic as ever, with the smallest hint of amusement on his pale face.

"Just as you thought things were coming to a close," the Outsider said, voice cool, "you're faced with yet another choice. And what a choice it is."

He tipped his head to one side, regarding Corvo patronizingly. "I've been watching Daud for decades. I watched him establish a gang of assassins that fed on Dunwall's rotting insides, and I watched him stab your dear empress."

Corvo wished he could move, to avert his gaze and stare at the floor instead of into the Outsider's unreadable black eyes.

The eyes gleamed. "And then I watched him change. He stopped leaving trails of corpses around Dunwall, and he stopped sleeping so soundly at night. His Whalers rumored he was going soft, losing his resolve. Maybe they were right."

The Outsider crossed his arms in a mock-pensive stance. His rings caught the lantern light. "But most remarkable of all, I watched him risk his life to save a young girl."

There was almost — _almost__ —_ a grin at the corners of the Outsider's mouth. It certainly carried on his words, and in his sly dismissive shrug. Corvo's blood boiled despite the chill of the Void.

"Even when the person he trusted most turned on him in favor of the very woman he was trying to stop, Daud didn't even raise his knife. Perhaps he took inspiration from you."

Corvo genuinely couldn't tell whether it was intended to be an insult or a compliment; every word the Outsider said was layered with a bizarre cryptic irony. It annoyed Corvo to no end.

"But for what?" the Outsider asked. "Why put everything on the line for the girl whose life he'd just ruined? Unlike you, he had everything to lose, and nothing to gain. There was no throne waiting for him, and no dead Empress to avenge."

The Outsider paused to judge Corvo's reaction. Corvo didn't humor him; his face stayed relaxed even as he was repeatedly prodded. Like he was a rat being dissected.

"In all my years, I've never seen a man change as much — or as fast — as Daud," the Outsider continued. "He went from gutting an empress one month to sticking out his neck for the sake of her daughter the next. But is that enough for you to accept his offer? Maybe he is the best chance you have at protecting your daughter," he landed on the word pointedly, "but is that enough for you to trust him? You showed him mercy once. Are you willing to show him forgiveness?"

The Outsider leaned forward. "Daud is a complicated man. You have a complicated choice."

He let his words hang in the air for a moment before fading, vanishing with the tendrils of Void.

His last statement was a push, as always. Corvo shivered as he regained control of his body.

For once, the Outsider had given him an answer — one that made his life significantly more difficult:

Daud was telling the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

Daud sat alone on the edge of the roof and gazed out over the glittering waters of the bay. The sun was about halfway set, streaking red across the waves and bathing the city in a deep golden glow. Buildings cast long shadows that fully concealed the network of alleyways he'd used to get here. The sky grew darker with each passing moment, revealing stars as light left the sky.

He took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke burn his lungs before exhaling it into a small plume. Five more minutes, and he'd leave. At least he'd taken the time to watch the sunset.

Daud hadn't expected Corvo to show up, not really. It was a far-fetched hope, at best. The hope slipped away like so many others, as five minutes became two, became one, until the sun had fully disappeared below the horizon. Lights flickered on around the city, mirroring the stars above.

He got to his feet, grunting from the effort. Daud hated getting older; the Mark did nothing to slow his aging. Sighing, he stubbed out the end of his smoke.

"Drop your weapon."

The voice was slightly muffled, but still fully familiar. Daud obeyed, unsheathing his sword before slowly and deliberately setting it on the ground at his feet.

Daud turned to face Corvo. His arm was outstretched, pointing a knife at Daud. Corvo was dressed as Daud had found him in the river — a long coat criss-crossed with belts, and the haunting metal mask.

"You kept the mask," Daud noted.

Corvo lowered his sword. He reached to his face, unhooking the mask from where it attached on his hood. The whole outfit baffled Daud, both in its style and practicality.

"I can't have anyone seeing my face," Corvo said. He removed the mask with a strangely delicate touch, revealing a dark and skeptical expression. There were circles under his eyes and a deep crease between his brows.

Paranoia had clearly set in deep. Daud did not envy him.

Corvo pulled back his hood. "If we're going to have this conversation, we're doing it on my terms," he declared.

Daud nodded.

"Are you alone?"

"No," Daud answered honestly. "One of my men, Thomas, came here with me. He's on an adjacent roof," Daud motioned to the building at their left. "He's only here as a lookout, and to report back to the others if this conversation goes south."

Corvo turned to look, raising the mask back to his face and peering through the built-in spyglass. Daud followed his gaze, locating Thomas crouched next to a stack of crates, face covered, unreadable.

"I can send him away if you'd like," Daud said.

Corvo lowered the mask, pensive. He considered for a moment. "No. He can stay, as long as he doesn't interfere."

"He won't," Daud said plainly. He gestured, and Thomas ducked back behind cover.

Corvo went silent, opening his mouth and closing it again before actually speaking. His voice was rough, uncertain. "I'm not here to say yes. I came here for more information."

Daud appreciated his open wariness. "What do you want to know?"

Corvo's eye twitched. "About this witch. Delilah. Who is she?"

"'Was'," Daud corrected. "She was an artist. Trained under that crazy naturalist Sokolov, actually. At some point the Outsider took interest in her, Marked her. Most of her magic was centered around her artwork."

"You said she had a way of taking the throne for herself without me knowing," Corvo recounted, uneasy.

"Her plan was to possess Emily through painting her. I swapped the paintings, so her spirit ended up trapped in a tree in the Void instead," Daud said. "I would call it poetic justice, but the real reason I did it was because I wasn't sure I could take her in a fight."

It sounded ridiculous out loud. Silly, even.

Corvo mirrored the sentiment. "How is that even possible?"

"The same way it's possible for us to see through walls and stop the flow of time," Daud said. "And she wasn't working alone. She had a whole coven of witches behind her. They shared her power, the same way I share power with my men."

His eyes flashed at that. "And the witches? What happened to the rest of them?"

"I don't know," Daud confessed. "I didn't stick around to find out. Some of them just seemed desperate for a place to belong that wasn't the Golden Cat. Some of them were almost as crazy as her."

Corvo's eyes stayed dark — shadowed with unease, rather than anger. Gears were turning in his head.

"Delilah managed to stay completely undetected," Daud added. "It took weeks of digging for me to find her. She might have been a madwoman, but she was sharp. And resourceful."

"Then how did you find out about her?" Corvo asked, harsh, with suspicion that they both knew was unwarranted.

Daud hesitated as the memory resurfaced: salt in his mouth, Void in his nose. It still puzzled him. "The Outsider."

"What? Why?"

"He told me her name. That's all he gave me: a name," Daud said. "I gave up on understanding his motivations a long time ago. My best guess is that he likes pitting the Marked against each other. Like it's some kind of game for him. Bastard."

Corvo's face went fully unreadable, scrunched up and blank at the same time. "And you believed him?"

"I followed the lead. It was something to do while the rest of the city fell to pieces." Daud paused. "And as much as I hate to admit it, I've never known the black-eyed bastard to be a liar. He sees everything, then gives us scraps of the truth as he deems fit."

"I can't say he's ever outright lied to me either," Corvo said, crossing his arms. He shook his head slightly. "But you said you're tired of killing and corruption. Why not just leave it all behind?"

Daud had wondered that himself. The streets below them still teemed with rats, as did the upper echelons of society. "I don't think I can. I have a feeling that no matter where I go or who I try to become, trouble is going to find me. I don't trust myself to sit still and stay quiet. Leave me alone long enough and I might end up going after the Outsider himself." He was only half joking. "If I work with you, at least I'm putting that restlessness into something better."

_Something better_. What a phrase that was. The assassin, Daud, doing _something better_. The cynic in him scoffed.

"You said you want to protect Emily," Corvo said, staring Daud down. "What exactly is your proposition?"

Corvo spoke with a chilled hesitance — distrusting, but with a deeply hidden edge of desperation. There would be no mind games tonight.

"Considering my history, the role of Royal Spymaster seems appropriate," Daud said. "I assume that position hasn't been filled yet."

Corvo clocked the irony. His eyes narrowed.

"No, we haven't gotten around to appointing a new one," Corvo admitted, somewhat irritated.

"Understandable," Daud said, remembering his hesitance to appoint Thomas in Billie's wake. "But it's unrealistic to be Lord Protector and Spymaster at the same time. You'd be spread too thin. And you don't have the connections I do. I know Dunwall's underbelly better than the back of my own hand. Inside information on every gang and underground organization in the city, and some outside it. Experience with how assassins think and move, how they're likely to plan. Places of weakness, and how to patch holes in security. And how to snuff out corruption before it rots the entire aristocracy."

It made sense. Daud was sure they both knew that. It was also absurd. Almost as absurd as the Lord Protector being Marked. Almost as absurd as killing an empress.

Daud pointed to Corvo's left hand. "Beyond that, I'm one of the only other living beings that can share matters of the arcane. No other Spymaster would be able to talk about supernatural threats. Or be your consult for whatever cryptic nonsense the Outsider drops in your lap."

Corvo pursed his lips, brows furrowed, scrutinizing him, right on the verge of being furious. He inhaled deeply. "I admit that you make some logical points. However."

His coat swished as he stepped forward; not quite into Daud's space, but enough to make a point. "Even if you convince me that you've had this change of heart, even if I overlook the damage you've done — not just to me personally, but to Emily, and to the Empire — and I decide that you would fit as Royal Spymaster, how do you suggest I make that move, politically? I'm sure people would be thrilled that an assassin is helping run the Empire. Not to mention the Abbey's reaction."

"The people are easier to sway than you think. It took Burrows a month to militarize the city and gut the parliament. Less than a month for you to regain your position. With Emily's approval — and yours — the support of the people would likely follow. And as for the Abbey..." Daud eyed the design on Corvo's hand. "How long before they come for you, too?"

"They don't know. I'm careful. I cover the Mark," Corvo said, defensive. "Even if they did know, they wouldn't dare come after me."

"I've heard plenty of rumors that the Lord Protector dabbles in black magic. They seem popular these days."

"Those are rumors."

"Exactly. Rumors. And what's more important to you: approval from the Abbey, or Emily's safety?" Daud asked. "That isn't a hypothetical. You'll be more effective in protecting her if you use your powers in the event of an emergency."

Corvo's hand twitched. His scrutiny teetered into anger. "And politics aside, how do you suggest I explain this all to Emily?" His eyes drilled into Daud. "She watched you murder her mother."

An apology rose in Daud's throat, but he swallowed it back down. An apology meant nothing here — less than nothing. It would be an insult. "Tell her what I've told you."

"She's a child," he growled.

"She's an empress," Daud said, pushing. "And she trusts you. More than anyone else in the world. I have a feeling that goes both ways, knowing what you've both been through."

Corvo's face fell. Momentarily, he was off balance.

Daud took the chance to clarify. "You should bring it up with her. As a possibility. She's Empress now; she deserves to know her options. If nothing else, it will help _you_ come to a decision."

"It would scare her."

"Knowing that she can send me away? Having you tell her that the most notorious assassin in Dunwall means her no harm, and would be willing to protect her? You think that would scare her?"

"I don't want her getting involved in—"

Daud fully cut him off. "She already _is _involved. She was _born_ involved. Her mother was assassinated and her bodyguard is Marked. Her soul was nearly stolen by a witch. She's empress of the world's most powerful empire. Nothing you do will keep her from being '_involved_'."

Corvo halted, mouth still open, struck dumb. Like he'd been punched in the gut. He shut his mouth slowly, setting his jaw. His eyes _burned_.

Daud had, of course, heard rumors that Jessamine had an affair with her bodyguard, and that Emily was their child. For the most part, Daud hadn't cared. It didn't change whose body he was driving a blade into. Sex was uninteresting; that included the gossip surrounding it.

But Corvo's eyes burned with something other than pure rage, or fear, or hatred, as he began pacing, running a hand through his long dark hair. He went quiet with contemplation, an agitated shadow against the backdrop of Dunwall's night sky.

Rumors aside, this was more than a concerned bodyguard. Whatever Emily was to him — whatever Jessamine had been to him — was far beyond a simple charge.

Daud searched him for some sign of openness. "How much do you believe? About Delilah, and my intentions," he asked, eventually.

"I don't know what to believe," Corvo said, a hesitance in his voice that sounded like he was trying very hard not to think about something. "I'll admit that this would be a very strange way to go about any kind of ulterior motive. But I don't fully trust you."

"I don't blame you," Daud said. "What would ease your mind? I'm willing to make sacrifices. Give up some freedoms."

Corvo stopped and looked back at Daud, confused.

"I've experienced my share of betrayals. Maybe I deserved them more than some others, but that didn't make them sting any less," Daud explained. "It's only reasonable that you'd want to set up some parameters. My only request is that I'm allowed to keep my men. Not on the premises, necessarily, but as consults."

"That's quite the request," Corvo said, incredulous.

"They're how I keep my finger on Dunwall's pulse. Scouts. Reliable ones, not swayed by coin or power," Daud said. "I only have a handful left — around seven. Anyone questioning their loyalty left a long time ago."

"They're murderers."

"So am I. So are you." Daud nodded to his sword. "And unlike the City Watch, they listen when I tell them not to use force. They haven't laid a hand on anyone in weeks. Not to mention that Burrows had already been using them for months."

Corvo returned his gaze to the ground. He rubbed his forehead like he was trying to dispel a headache. His jaw was clenched, face contorted into a deep frown.

Daud bit his tongue, holding back needless appeals and apologies. He stared down at his own blade, on the ground at his feet. It wasn't the same one he'd used to stab the Empress; he kept that one locked up and hidden away. Holding it made his hands shake. Bringing it here tonight would have been wrong — as though she would have somehow seen it.

Daud raised his eyes to find Corvo looking back at him. The eye contact was uncomfortable, like staring in a mirror, or at an old painting. Corvo studied him, searching.

Corvo's voice was falsely steady and restrained, a practiced lid on a pot boiling over with frustration. "I'll talk to Emily."

Daud exhaled.

Corvo averted his eyes again. "I'll tell her what you've told me, and I'll let her decide. The final appointment of Royal Spymaster would be her decision regardless."

Extraordinary. "When should I expect a verdict?" Daud asked.

"In five days, come back to Dunwall Tower. Back to the room you found me in the other night. You'll hear her decision in person. Or I'll turn you away, and you'll disappear."

"I can accept that." Daud wanted to thank him, but words were insubstantial. "Anything else?"

Corvo pulled his hood back up and refastened the mask. "If you do anything to make me regret this, I'll gut you like a whale."

With that, he leapt from the roof, vanishing into wisps of Void, mid-jump.

The threat, unlike so many others, was not empty.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning that this chapter is corny as hell. but like, i had to.

Corvo locked the door behind him. The relative peace in Emily's room did little to calm his racing thoughts.

Emily was on her bed, reading, chin propped in her hand and legs kicking in the air. She looked up from her book.

"Corvo!" she said, breaking into a smile. Corvo let himself smile back, if briefly.

Emily sat up, dangling her legs off the side of the bed. "I'm glad you came to say hi. Studying is boring."

"What are you studying?" Corvo asked, pulling up a chair.

"Nothing interesting. Trade routes or something," she said, lending a displeased glance at the pile of books. Her eyes brightened as she turned back to Corvo. "But now I can take a break from that!"

She was practically beaming. Corvo's smile fell slightly.

Emily's followed. "You look serious. Is something the matter?"

"We need to...have a talk," Corvo began, hesitant. Not the most elegant way to start a conversation. His mind felt unusually scattered, swirling with nervous, restless energy. He'd barely slept in the three days since speaking with Daud.

She pouted. "Is this about my sleep schedule? I promise I don't stay up as late as the maids say."

"No, this—" Corvo shook his head. "How late have you been staying up?"

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Emily insisted. "What were you saying?"

Corvo shifted in his chair. "I had planned on waiting another few years before telling you all of this, but..."

Where to start?

Emily's posture straightened. The child-like joy on her face drained away. "Corvo?"

He'd dismissed the guards at her door, but the paranoia was still there. He couldn't have _anyone_ hearing this conversation.

Corvo kept his voice low. "Emily...you know that, as an empress, you have to keep secrets sometimes. For safety."

Emily nodded. "Yes. I'm good at keeping secrets. I know mother was too."

"Yes, she was." His stomach twisted, feeling the Heart thump steadily, even in its incorporeal state. "Now, what I'm about to tell you needs to be kept a secret. Nobody can know. Not even Callista. This has to stay between you and me. Do you promise?"

Her eyes were wide and confused, but there was a certain understanding in them that many people twice her age lacked. "I promise."

Corvo exhaled slowly, fingers fidgeting as he untied the wrap on his left hand. "How much have you been taught about the Outsider?"

The name still felt strange to say; Daud was, for better or for worse, the first person he'd spoken to about the Outsider.

Emily's eyebrows came together. "Umm...I don't usually pay much attention during the Overseer lessons. I know he has black eyes. He's bad though, right? Like if I don't follow the Strictures, he'll corrupt me. And he makes people do bad things. I know some people think those are just made up stories, though. But it seems silly that the Abbey would get so upset over something made up. Why?"

"That's a good summary. I never quite knew what to make of all the legends myself. But..." Corvo paused. He didn't want to bring this up again. "But do you remember, when the assassins came for your mother, they were able to teleport?"

Her posture loosened. She nodded. "Their leader lifted you up without even touching you."

Corvo's pulse quickened as the memory resurfaced. Adrenaline threatened to flood his senses. He pushed past it. "Yes. He—Daud—is able to use magic, just like the Overseers talk about. He gets magic from the Outsider."

She tilted her head. "Okay...so the Outsider _is_ bad?"

"It isn't that simple," Corvo continued, dodging the question. "Months later, after I escaped prison, the Outsider spoke to me. In a dream."

Corvo held his left hand out. "He gave me this mark."

Emily took his hand gingerly. She was puzzled, maybe even scared—but she was taking it about as well as he could have hoped.

She touched the brand, delicately. "Is that how you were able to do all the things you did?"

"It helped."

Emily looked at Corvo, eyes thoughtful and curious. "I think I met him, too."

"What?" His blood ran cold. At this age?

She released Corvo's hand. "It was in a dream. I saw a man with black eyes. He told me you were interesting. I thought it was just another nightmare, so I didn't tell anyone."

Corvo raked his fingers through his hair. "That sounds like him."

Emily stared at the ceiling. "If he helped you, then he can't be all bad."

"He didn't _help_ me, exactly," Corvo said, scratching his chin. "He gave me abilities, and told me to use them how I wanted. He would have been just as happy if I had used them to kill everyone."

"Oh," Emily said. She turned it over in her head. "And I guess he also helped Daud kill Mother. So he's definitely not all good, either."

"No," Corvo agreed. "I don't understand his motivations, or his morals. I don't think it matters. What matters is that there are people out there—like me, and like Daud—that have a lot of power. Power that we don't understand."

"That's...scary," she said, slowly, still examining the Mark.

"Yes," Corvo concurred, remembering the open fear in Daud's voice as he'd spoken about Delilah. "Yes, it's scary. And..."

His next words caught in his throat. He felt eyes on him, invisible ones. He knew he was always being watched, but it was only in moments like these that he truly felt it. Somewhere in the Void, he was being judged, bet on, and bet against. How many others knew that feeling?

He hoped Emily never would.

"Corvo?" Emily asked, concerned. She hopped off her bed.

Corvo shook himself, letting out an unsteady breath.

Emily wrapped her small arms around Corvo's shoulders. The knot in his chest loosened

She pulled away, smiling. "Sit on the floor so I can do your hair. You never stay sad when I braid your hair."

"I think this talk is too serious for braids," Corvo said.

She puffed out her cheeks indignantly. "That sounds exactly like something someone who needs their hair braided would say. Sit."

Corvo knew the look on her face. There was no point in arguing.

He slid onto the ground in front of the chair. Emily took his place on the seat, sitting with her legs tucked under her. Corvo felt a little childish, cross-legged on the carpet, but he couldn't deny that his stress was easing slightly.

Emily rolled up her sleeves dramatically and blew a lock of hair out of her face. Without a headband, her black bangs usually ended up in front of her eyes.

"So...the Outsider gave you magic, and that needs to stay a secret so the Overseers don't get upset," she mused, separating a section of Corvo's hair. "And there are other people that have these powers, too."

"Yes, and..." Corvo began, wincing at a sharp tug on his scalp. "...I don't think I can handle it all myself."

The fingers entwined in his hair stilled momentarily.

"I see." Her voice hid a controlled waver. "Then...do you have a plan?"

A plan. Corvo wished he had a plan. He sighed.

"This is going to sound ridiculous." He frowned. "It is ridiculous."

"Stop frowning," Emily demanded. The pulls on his scalp had become steadier, smoother movements as she worked his hair. "I can't even see your face and I know you're frowning."

Corvo forced his face to relax as he continued. "I've been looking for candidates for the position of Royal Spymaster. It's a position I'm hesitant to fill, considering."

_Considering_. That was explanation enough.

"I never liked Burrows," Emily commented. "Mother always got mad at me for hiding bugs in his pockets."

In other circumstances, Corvo might have laughed. "Nobody seems qualified for the role. Especially with the plague, and in the wake of the Lord Regent."

"Hmm. And you would need somebody you can really trust, in case they find out about your secret."

Her mind had jumped directly to one of Daud's best points: Corvo needed someone who understood magic, beyond just wanting to burn anyone that mentioned it. He grit his teeth.

"Yes," he said simply. "And someone offered."

"Oh, that's good!" Emily said, tying off one braid. It settled unevenly on his head. "Who was it?"

Corvo held his breath, counting his heartbeats, not quite ready to feel the air turn cold. Not quite ready for the silence to become weighted.

"Daud."

Her hands pulled away. "Isn't he...."

"The one who killed your mother, yes."

Emily's lack of response was all the acknowledgment he needed.

Corvo bit the nail of his thumb. "I had encountered him before, in the Flooded District, after the Loyalists poisoned me. We fought. I won."

After a brief silence, Emily resumed her work on his hair, hands slightly less steady. "But you didn't kill him."

"No. No, I didn't," Corvo said. "Of all the people I was sent to get rid of, Daud was the only one that showed any sign of remorse. And the only one that knew his death would be justified."

Emily chewed her lip.

"He wouldn't let his men interfere during our fight. And when he realized he'd lost, he asked for his life. Said he was broken inside. But he didn't run."

The scene was burned into Corvo's mind: Daud bleeding out at his feet, the taste of blood in his own mouth. Pain burned in his shoulder from a well-timed slash. His breath came in heaves through his mask. Sword heavy in his hand.

Emily draped another completed braid to the wrong side of his part. Corvo focused on the tension in his scalp until his heart slowed down.

Eventually, words returned to him. "I stared him in the eyes. But I didn't see the heartless murderer I expected. I definitely didn't see anything worse than what I saw in Burrows, or the Pendletons, or the High Overseer. And I let all of them live."

Corvo gazed at his hand for some time, visualizing the Heart beating in it. "Killing him wouldn't have brought Jessamine back."

Emily fiddled with one of the finished braids. "I think that makes sense," she said, quietly.

Relief washed over Corvo, unexpected but welcome. To know that she at least understood his decision lifted a weight he didn't know he'd been carrying. "Regardless. He broke in the other night, while you were asleep. He didn't hurt me, but what he said was...concerning."

Her braiding resumed. "What did he say?" she asked, voice high.

Corvo rubbed his throat, remembering the cold blade pressed against it. "That he'd stopped another attempt on your life while I was busy with the Loyalists. That another person with magic had been after you, and his vigilance is the only reason you're still here."

She hesitated, tightening a weave. "...Do you believe him?"

The question was straightforward enough, but it ground his mind to a halt. He'd been stuck on it for days now, unable to settle on an answer. The Outsider would have him believe it. But what good was that?

Watching Daud talk had been something else entirely. He was direct and unapologetic, never diverting or obscuring his points. His movements were deliberate, too, and his eyes expressed plain fear where other men would have presented only stoicism. There had been no hyperbole or underacting in his speech. He talked about witches and possession with curt straightforwardness; no flowers, no begging—just an entirely unbelievable story. If he was lying, he was bad at it.

That, in combination with the words of the Outsider.

Corvo conceded. "Yes."

"Oh." Emily's response was simple, but it struck like a bullet.

"He said he wants to protect you. And that if you don't want him around, he'll never come near you again."

Emily didn't speak for awhile. Corvo turned to face her.

She wore a worried frown, creasing her young features.

"Couldn't it be another assassination attempt?" Emily asked, wary.

"It's a possibility," Corvo said. "But somehow I doubt it. If he wanted either of us dead, there are much easier ways to go about it."

She stared intently at her knees. "Why would he want to protect me?"

Corvo brushed a braid out of his face. "If we're to believe what he told me, it's because he wants to prevent the kind of chaos he's previously caused."

"Can people really change that much?"

Emily searched Corvo's face for an answer, perhaps not realizing the weight of the question.

Again, his communion with the Outsider seemed to have only made things harder. But Corvo had known the answer before that, despite the best attempts of his pessimism to grind it out of him.

He looked away from her, out the window, into the darkening sky. "Some can." Memories surfaced, bright and bittersweet. "I know your mother believed they could."

"I wonder what she would think of all this," Emily sighed.

Corvo's chest clenched. The Heart was a talk for another time, but its insight to Daud rang clear in his mind: _His hands do violence. But there is a different dream in his heart._

Whether that counted enough as forgiveness was another question altogether.

He manifested the Heart in his hand. It beat steadily, trying to direct his attention to his own collection of bonecharms in the next room.

Corvo squeezed the mass of muscle and gears gently. The hairs on the back of his neck rose on contact with the Void as her voice brushed his ears and echoed in his head.

_Her dreams are troubled. Large creatures in deep water, and knives stuck between her ribs._

Corvo dismissed the Heart with a shudder. He knew Emily noticed the subtle shake, but she didn't ask. Instead, she studied his hair again.

She crossed her arms in a huff. "You didn't let me finish your braids."

Wordlessly, Corvo returned to his previous posture. He figured Emily was doing this as much for herself as for him.

She returned to the rhythm easily, humming patiently to ease the tension.

But it was still there. The conversation wasn't over. The topic hung, suspended in the air like a heavy fog.

"I can't deny that Daud would fit the position," Corvo admitted. "He knows his way around secrets. He has experience. Maybe most importantly, he knows how to handle others that have magic."

Emily didn't respond—whether from being deep in thought or discomfort, he didn't know.

"If only he were anyone else," Corvo concluded, knowing full well the paradox inherent to the statement. The only reason Daud _was_ so capable was the very thing barring him from entry.

"You said you believe him," Emily said, more quizzical than declarative.

"I believe that a witch was after you, and I believe Daud stopped her," Corvo corrected her.

Emily finished another braid. "So he's already saved me once."

There was something bitter—or at least melancholic—in her tone. Corvo felt it too; strong enough that it kept him up at night.

"Does that make up for anything?" Corvo asked.

"Maybe not," Emily agreed. "But it's a good reason to believe he wants to protect me."

Her braiding was getting progressively more painful as she was reduced to pulling at stray strands. Corvo's scalp was sore from being held taut.

There was one small point Corvo had not yet clarified. His stomach twisted.

"In a few nights, he'll be coming back for a final decision," Corvo said, quietly. "Do you want to meet him, or should I send him away?"

"I..." she trailed off, uneasy.

"I would be by your side and ready to fight if he made any suspicious movements. I've beaten him once, and I can do it again."

A pause. The silence was as deep and dark as any ocean in the Isles.

"I...want to meet him," she said. "Even if I turn him down. I want to talk to the man that killed my mother."

The determination in her words shook Corvo to his core.

There was a final sharp tug on his hair. "Your braids are done," Emily said. She slid off her chair, leaving room for Corvo to get to his feet.

He stood and approached the vanity, turning his head slightly to get a better view of her work.

His hair was a mess of braids, but in a strange way it was still nice; some smaller braids were combined to make larger ones, and several were pulled around to create a crown. It was certainly more cheerful than his usual styling.

Emily smiled, though her eyes were still shadowed. "Do you like them?"

Corvo pulled her close, watching their reflection: tired, confused, and wounded—but together.

"They're wonderful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the kind comments!!! they really do mean a lot <3


	6. Chapter 6

Daud, as a general rule, did not seek out or erect shrines. He wouldn't pass up the runes if he came across them, but taking time specifically to commune with the Outsider felt a little bit too much like worship, and if there was one thing Daud couldn't stand, it was idolatry.

If the Outsider wanted a talk, he would have to come to Daud directly. Which, in time, he did.

Daud used to kneel at shrines, but recently he'd considered bringing chairs; if he had to listen to the bastard monologue, he could at least take it as an opportunity to rest. When he walked in the Void in his dreams, however, that wasn't an option.

The Void had changed over the years, from jagged rocks to ruins to blurs of color, but some things remained the same: cold, blue-grays, briny air, and whale song. It seemed to be shifting again now, the disjointed chunks of rocks growing closer together, less like they could float away at any moment.

Once again, he found himself standing above the crumpled corpse of Jessamine Kaldwin. The tiles beneath her were blood-splattered, excessively so—a more macabre and disturbing version of the real memory, which was already so clearly seared into his mind. A note lay next to her, just as the last time he'd been in the Void. It was one phrase written in his own scribbled handwriting, frantic, like the final rantings of a madman: "SHE WON'T FORGIVE YOU".

Daud concurred, and swiftly exited the gazebo, toward the odd pull that he was so unfortunately familiar with.

He didn't have to travel far before the Outsider appeared, freezing him in place. He'd always despised the sensation; it was like being locked out of his own body.

The Outsider, too, had changed appearance slightly over the years. From clean to disheveled and back again, reflecting the state of the world with eerie timeliness. Daud sometimes wondered which way the influence flowed.

Begrudgingly, Daud gave his attention to the Outsider, who was inscrutable as ever.

"Quite the feat you've accomplished," the Outsider began. "A second peaceful meeting with the Royal Protector, and a third on the way? Rather impressive, considering your history."

Did he talk to others this way? Did Corvo have to put up with the same guilt trips and back-handed compliments?

"And even more impressive is that, somehow, your message is getting through to him. And what a message it is," he said, with a small flourish of the hand. "You kill a man's lover and then beg to protect his daughter. How bold."

Daud's heart sank. So the rumors were true. It made sense, of course—but the abject horror on Corvo's face at the moment of the Empress's death now took an even more disturbing color in Daud's mind. As did the absurdity of his request.

"Or is this just your way of making sure your hard work doesn't go unnoticed? To make sure your victory over Delilah doesn't fall through the cracks?" he goaded. "Regardless, you've made a valid case, but from here on out, your future relies on the trust and forgiveness of others."

The fact that the Outsider did not smile or emote in any way was perhaps among the things Daud disliked most about him. The scathing scorn tumbling from the Outsider's mouth wasn't even matched by a sly grin or disappointed frown. Just empty black eyes that saw forever.

"How will you go down in history? As the assassin, Daud, killer of an empress? Or as the redeemed Royal Spymaster?"

Redemption. Daud would have rolled his eyes if he could. There was no redemption awaiting him in Dunwall Tower. He'd given up on being _redeemed_ years ago.

He was going to do his job. Anything he got in return was incidental.

"And to think you've left that decision in the hands of a child. You've achieved something nearly impossible, Daud: you've surprised _me_." His lips pursed, short of a smirk, and his form dissipated.

Daud was left in the blue silence, disgruntled as expected. The Outsider always left Daud sour, at himself and at the world. How had he ever seen the bastard as anything other than a nuisance?

Despite the Outsider's exit, Daud was still in the Void—still asleep. He let himself wander to the edge of the platform, stare off into the abyss, past the fractured buildings and floating lanterns. Whale song echoed, low and mournful, cutting to Daud's heart. He admired the beasts, and halfway regretted not destroying the slaughterhouse.

His thoughts drifted to Billie. Her absence left a bitter hole in his heart, a complicated knot of regret and loss and _anger; _anger at Billie, anger at Delilah. Anger at the Outsider. Anger at himself.

Daud wanted that anger—that _hurt—_to stop; he wanted to prevent it. Too much anger had built up in his veins over the years, too much blame and guilt and calloused apathy, like muck and weeds clogging a drain. Saving Emily from Delilah had forced some of it out, just enough to get water flowing again.

No, Daud wasn't looking for _redemption_, or _forgiveness_, or anything so noble and proud as _proving himself_.

He was looking for _relief_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks all of you for the kind words on this fic! i hope you all enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Daud felt oddly naked without his blade. True, he hadn't used it in weeks anyway, but it had always been a kind of insurance, hanging heavy from his belt; a backup plan if things went bad. But tonight he had left it behind.

Dunwall Tower had no less protection than usual. He peered out over the yard, watching guards mingle, completely unaware of his presence. Oblivious to the ex-assassin, equipped with black magic, crouched on the ledge two stories above them.

Daud was not unfamiliar with taking risks. He was a paid killer, after all; but the anxiety he'd felt before those assignments was nothing compared to whatever was tangled up in his guts now. His mouth and throat were dry, heart pounding, fingers numbed. Nothing in his head made sense beyond blurs of determination and apprehension. Part of him wanted to run, leave like he'd intended to, disappear without a trace. The Whalers had a plan if he didn't come back tonight.

Daud had killed an empress and fought a witch, but now, hiding outside of a window, preparing to talk with a young girl—or be turned away at the door—he was paralyzed with fear. It wasn't out of self preservation—he didn't fear for his life. What was it, then? If he wasn't afraid to die, or to fight, or to run, why did his hands sweat and shake like a man about to be sent to the gallows?

Daud shook himself and inhaled. He couldn't fall apart now. Whatever came next, he would have to accept it.

He rapped on the window four times. Corvo walked into view, unlatched the window, and opened it.

He seemed as intense as ever, thick dark hair pulled back—into a braid, oddly—though a few strands still hung in his face. His eyes were piercing and skeptical, burning coals among hard features.

Corvo stepped aside, leaving enough room for Daud to crawl through the window. It was not the most dignified way to make his arrival, but it was, perhaps, the most appropriate.

Daud surveyed the room. It was very much the same as it had several weeks prior, though the furniture had been slightly rearranged: the chair from the desk had been relocated to the center of the open sitting area.

In it sat Emily Kaldwin, dressed in the same fine white cloth in which Daud had first seen her. Her hair was recently cut, well maintained, held in place with a red satin headband. She kept a tight posture, matching her trained eyes.

This was no throne room, and to a large extent Daud preferred it that way: out of view, unpretentious, and private.

Corvo closed and latched the window, keeping his focus locked on Daud.

"You're alone?" Corvo asked gruffly, under his breath so Emily couldn't hear. His hand rested deliberately on the hilt of his sword.

Daud nodded. "The only one watching us is that bastard in the Void."

Corvo's eye twitched in what Daud could only assume was disgruntled acknowledgement.

Daud raised his arms slowly while Corvo gave him a critical once-over, noting the three bonecharms slung across his chest, and his lack of weapon.

"The charms are to help me slip away unnoticed. I don't think either of us want the Grand Guard to know this interaction took place," Daud assured him.

Corvo gave a curt nod. His eyes stayed on Daud, even as he returned to Emily's side. His posture changed to something more formal, more practiced, with his arms behind his back and chest puffed out slightly. After exchanging a few whispered words with Emily, he gestured for Daud's approach.

Daud turned his attention to Emily as he made his way forward. Her eyes were wide, curious and scared at once. She'd clearly inherited her mother's fair skin, perhaps for the best; a dusky Serkonan complexion would have given away her paternity.

He wondered if she knew. How much she knew. About the Lord Protector, about the coup, about the assassination. About the Outsider. She was still young, with a childish glint behind her gaze. But it was also shadowed and burdened in a way that a child of her status certainly shouldn't be.

Daud stopped several feet back from her, leaving what he judged to be an appropriate amount of space.

She spoke first.

"You killed my mother."

The bluntness of the statement struck Daud in the pit of his gut, hard as any punch he'd ever taken. He straightened, shrugging it off as best he could. His mouth was dry; all he could do was nod.

She hesitated. "But Corvo says you want to help. And that you can help in ways most people can't."

Daud looked at Corvo; he was staring back, mouth set in a firm line. He was just _barely_ tolerating this.

Emily spoke her next words carefully, brows knit in concentration. "I wanted to meet you and talk to you for myself. I want to hear what you have to say. Partly because I think it's what my mother would have done, but partly because it's what I think is right."

She nodded, either assurance to herself or to Corvo. Her eyes were fierce with courage. "You may approach and speak freely."

Daud took two short paces forward, still well out of striking distance, to begin his final appeal. He disliked speeches, and thus hadn't planned one; this was to be honest and straightforward.

"Emily Kaldwin. Several months ago, I killed your mother for a large amount of coin, paid to me by one of her own advisors. I've regretted it every day since."

Three sets of eyes bore into him. Analytical, skeptical, doubting.

"But I'm not here to apologize. An apology won't undo the decisions I've made. An apology won't bring back your mother, or fix this city."

Daud knelt in front of her. Corvo reached for his sword, startled by the movement, but Emily set him at ease. Daud continued. "The only thing I can change now are my actions going forward. So I've come to you to offer my skills as Royal Spymaster. Maybe this way I can protect you—from witches. From gang leaders. From the corrupt. From people like me."

Emily leaned forward some, relaxing from her proper upright posture as her focus slipped from formality to the matter at hand. She _had_ inherited her father's intense stare, evidently. "Corvo told me some things about you. That you and him both have magic from the Outsider, and that other people do too. And that there was a witch that tried to overthrow me, and that you stopped her."

"Yes," Daud confirmed. He glanced at Corvo, who dodged his eye contact.

"Why?" she asked. A single-word question.

Over the years, Daud had gotten quite good at reading people; it was necessary in his line of work. But children still stumped him. They didn't follow the same rules as adults—they didn't lie the same way, and didn't take lies the same way.

Emily was now strung between a child's understanding and an adult's responsibility. Under which standards would she judge him?

"Seeing your Royal Protector set things right from the shadows, reshape the city from inside without a drop of blood on his hands, despite his misfortune, despite the powers granted to him...it stirred something in me. Something I'd forgotten I had ever had."

Daud paused, examining his left hand. He could the feel the Mark on his skin, even if he couldn't presently see it.

He raised his eyes again, and looked from Emily to her protector and back. "It gave me hope."

Emily tilted her head in consideration. Corvo gave him a cold, hard stare: baffled, but not wholly unconvinced.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," Daud said. "But I hope that you can trust me enough to accept my offer. If not, I'll leave. I'll catch the next ship out of Dunwall, and you'll never hear of me again."

And he would go down in history as a legendary assassin, disappeared without a trace. A fitting end to his story.

Silence took the room in the wake of his confession. For how long? A minute? Ten? At least using magic to stop time was consistent, a pattern that could be learned. The stillness that gripped tense spaces was infinitely more unstable.

The three of them were stuck in it, three points in space that had transformed the history and fate of an entire empire. And the fourth, who was watching them from somewhere else. Thinking whatever gods think.

Assassinations took minutes to carry out. Daud felt hours pass before the stillness broke.

"I believe you," Emily said. Plainly. Simply.

Inconceivably.

Daud's head snapped up. Corvo even suspended his violent watch on Daud to give Emily an astonished look.

"I believe you," she repeated, pushing through the oppressive disbelief. "I don't know if I forgive you. I don't know if I _can_ forgive you. But..."

She trailed off, squinting. Daud held his breath.

When Emily spoke again, it was firm, but not forceful. There was decisive hesitance; she was as sure as she was unsure. "But you're not lying. I think Corvo knows that, too," she glanced briefly at Corvo, "That's more than I can say for a lot of the people I've met."

She straightened up.

"I'm an empress now. I need protection. If you can do that in ways most people can't, then...." She paused. "Then I accept."

Absolutely ridiculous. Daud exhaled. 

"But," Emily continued, "what about the people you share your power with?"

That was a much easier question. "With permission, they'd be your spies. Gather information for you, discreetly," Daud said.

"Spies," she repeated, testing the word. "I suppose a spymaster would need spies."

Emily looked to Corvo, who nodded curtly in confirmation. He was grinding his teeth.

"And your powers?" she asked.

"I'll hide them. Keep them out of sight. Like your Royal Protector does." He nodded to the wrap on Corvo's left hand.

Corvo glared back. "Don't take this as welcoming, Daud."

"I won't," Daud said. "I've never been welcomed anywhere."

Despite the heat, cold seeped down Daud's spine. The room froze. The young Empress sat completely motionless, mouth half-closed. Corvo held his hand up, the Mark glowing through its covering. His voice could cut through stone.

"If you ever take one step out of line, I promise you that you will wish I had killed you in the Flooded District. You will beg for a blade on your throat. What I endured in Coldridge will pale in comparison to your fate, and we both know that the Outsider will only look on and laugh at your suffering." Corvo held Daud's gaze, even as the room began to warp back to the standard flow of time. "Do not test me, Daud."

The magic faded, bringing Emily back to the conversation. Her eyes flickered between the two of them, slightly confused. Corvo relaxed his position, and Daud returned his attention to Emily.

Corvo's threat hung over him, but he found it only reasonable. Of course he would have to be careful; he'd always been careful.

"Perhaps you can both see this as formally keeping an eye on me," Daud suggested. "But regardless."

Despite Corvo's harshness, the tension in Daud's chest—the dark, tangled knot that had taken up residence inside him—released. His guts untied themselves. From a space deep in him, somewhere broken, something welled up, filling him up to his eyes.

The words spilled out, unexpected, desperate, and tired:

_"Thank you."_

\------

It was only hours later, when Daud was alone and quiet, after debriefing with his men, that he allowed the weight to truly hit him. The reality of what he'd just accomplished.

And it hit like a flood.

And for the first time in many years, Daud wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's all folks!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! you can follow me on tumblr at plaant.tumblr.com


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